The Bourbon News

Unexpended Charity.

"It's hangin' on well, so it is," remarked the janitor, blowing on his fingers, as he entered the basement and buffeted himself vigorously with swinging arms.

"What is it hangs on well?' asked August, his assistant, who had been shoveling ashes from beneath the furnace into an iron wheelbarrow and who paused to wipe the perspiration from his glowing face with the sleeve of his coat.

"Several things does, August," replied the janitor. "There's th' passenger on a six o'clock street car an' th' chief av polls. Th' wallpaper I've been tryin' to strip off in th' empty flat is stickin' pretty well. I b'lieve I'll let you try your hand on that in th' afternoon. I've saved th' ceilin' for you, an' there's a mighty interestin' pattern on th' ceilin'; you'll enj'y the job. I was speakin' av th' weather, though."

"It is cold veather," said August.

"Cold! I should say it was cold," said the janitor, shivering with marked exaggeration. "Hurry and get thim ashes out from under th' grate there. I want to crawl in an' lay down. Th' mercury's collapsed entirely. Has anyone been in?"

"Nobody was in, only some tramp feller, who wants to get warm himself. I haf not let him stay but ten minutes. Den I tell him: You get out pretty quick,' and he went out."

"That's right," said the janitor "that's th' proper thing to do. What do you care if he was freezin'? Ut ain't no business av yours. Heat costs money, don't ut? Wanted to get warm: Twas like th' gall av him. Ut wouldn't surprise me if he wanted to get something to eat. Thim tramps wan th' earth cut into hemispheres an' served on a hand-painted chiny plate. You ought to have kicked him, August. Ut's like you did."

August squirmed uneasily. "He toldt me he vas hongry, und I gif him a dime und toldt him to get owit pretty soon, und get somet'ing to eal," he replied.

"You're a tow-headed chump," remarked the janitor. "You haven't th' sinse av a eight-mont'-old babe. Don't you know ut's an even chance he buys a drink with that dime, or spinds ut in some other form av riotous an' luxurious amusement? Arny philant'ropist will tell you that same. Yeu were pauperizin' av bim. Why didn't you rake him clear out thim ashes anny way, if you were bound to squander tin cints on him?"

August replied apologetically. "I guess he vas hongry, und if he vas not hungry he couldt not get him very drunk on dose ten cents. If I send him avay mitout not'ing I shall t'ink ohf him ven I eat mine own dinner, und it spoil my appetite."

"Well. av course you were justified if it affects you that way," said the janitor; "but ycu're no political economist an' you'll never get your name in th' papers."

August trotted off with his wheelbarrow of ashes, and the janitor, having toasted himself sufficiently, walked leisurely over to the work-bench, and pulling a door lock from his pocket proceeded to take it apart, looking from time to time out of the window as he did so. There was a horse attached by a strap to a heavy iron weight in front ard to a light wagon behind standing at the curb before the window. It was a depressed-looking horse, with abnormally large knee-joints and hoofs that turned inward; its half-closed eyes were deeply sunken and its backbone was prominent and serrated; there were cavernous hollows in its flanks and its tail was bald and its coat staring. Now and then it seemed to rouse itself with an effort from its miserable apathy and look around as if expecting somebody. Then it would move forward until the strap tightened at the bit ring; then it would move back and resume its despondent attitude. On the other side of the street there was a team of glossy, well-fed bays, held in check by a coachman, who sat on the box so rigidly and with eyes so fixed and expressionless that he appeared to be frozen. These horses were shaking their bright pole chains impatiently and tossing their heads as they pawed on the hard ground, as though they were not only conscious of their plated harness, but considered even the drab livery and cockaded hat of the coachman a part of their own adornment. Once or twice the equine wreck at the wagon looked around at his patrician brethren, but he did not seem to be envious. Resignation was written on every rib of him.

"Will you look at him now, th' poo crowbait!" said the janitor to the tenant who had come down to borrow a screwdriver. "Th' breath av his body not sarm enougn to show as it come out ay his nostrils, an' thim acrost th' way snortin' like somebody had opened a valve with steam up. He's been standin' there like that for two mortal hours. I seen him as I wint out at nine. an it's 11 this moment, so it is. I'm goin to wait five minutes longer an' thin, if the driver ain't on deck, I'm goin' to h'ist that weight in th' wagon an' let him walk around an' get warm. I'd like th' contract ay warmin' his owner."

The janitor screwed the plates of the lock together, and then, inserting the key, snapped it back and forth to satisfy himself that the spring was working well.

"I suppose that moth-eaten structure was wanst a rollickin', friskin' colt, without a care in th' world or a stroke ay work to do, an' green grass an' runnin' water for th' gatherin," resumed the janitor. "I wonder ay he's thinkin' av thim days now? There's wan thing about horses-most av thom have seen better days an' fields an' pastures green. Take it in th' case av Julius, here. Julius was born on the North side, an' he's a North-side cat from his whiskers to th' tip av his tail. He belongs to a sangerbund, does Julius, an' a turnverein, an' he's sociable an' happy. He'd be just as happy if he had to depend on his own exertions for what he gets to eat as he is now, an' all he cares about green grass is a mouthful to take th' brown taste out av his mouth whin he's bilious after bein' up all night-ain't it, Julius?"

The black cat, which had leaped lightly up on the bench, arched his back stiffly as the janitor passed his hand along it and began to purr. Then he walked up to the window, and, standing on his hind legs, looked out with an air of interest.

"He knows what we're talkin' about," said the janitor, "but he ain't got no partickler sympathy with th' poor beast himself. I'm goin' to do somethin' for that horse. August here has been relievin' th' necessities av indigent tramps, an' I'm fired with his noble example. I think there'll be more gratitude in th' bristle av th' horse—ther'll be more oats inside av his slats annyway."

The janitor caught up a wooden pail and, putting his cap down over his ears started out. The tenant, looking out of the window, saw him stop and pat the dilapidated horse on the neck as he passed him and then hurry on. In about five minutes he returned to the basement with his pail full of bran.

"It's all I could steal," he explained; "but I'm thinkin' th' soobjict av my benivolence will be just as pleased. I'll turn some hot water into it to make it th' more comfortin' to his old stomach."

He turned on a faucet as he spoke, and was stirring the mess around with a stick when there was the sound of wheels outside, and the meager form of the horse trotted slowly past the window, urged on by a big man with a frayed whip, who occupied all of the wagon seat and bulged over on the off side.

"That's alwis th' way whin I try to do a good action," said the janitor. "August, how is your family off for poultices?" —Chicago Daily Record.